


In A Completely Different Time And Place

by ninetwofivethree



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, Friends to Lovers, Gen, Pining, Strangers to Lovers, another AU, can i ignore and adhere to canon in the same story? you bet i can, haha i can tag belas cat as a character, the au au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninetwofivethree/pseuds/ninetwofivethree
Summary: Dean doesn't believe in soul mates. He hasn't read Stephen Hawking's interpretation of quantum mechanics. He doesn't think that there are other universes out there, where his life is any better or harder or weirder than it is.He does think there is just something magnetizing about this guy, though.we've seen every au. we've seen the college au, the flower shop au, the vietnam war au.so here's the alternate universe- alternate universe.





	1. The California State Bar Exam

**Author's Note:**

> this fic idea was inspired by another one of my favorite authors, who just deleted all their works and i can never read them again :'( 
> 
> also, s/o to skam in the title. maybe ill write for them next

"Two more days of this!" Sam groaned, slumping down over the counter. He cradled his forehead in his crossed arms. 

 

"It's gonna be at least two weeks or more before they can get us back home, man." Dean mused over his shoulder from the open fridge. There were two separate cartons of orange juice.  _Why did they need two orange juices?_  

 

"No, I meant my bars!" Sam sighed. 

 

"Louisiana's state bar exam is longer than California's, you know," Bela piped up from where she was leaning against the sink. "Least you're not tryin'a be a lawyer in  _Lo_ _o_ _-_ _z_ _ee-_ _anna_." She said this last sentence with a heavy, drawling bayou accent.  

 

"Why do we have two different cartons of orange juice?" Dean asked.  

 

"You aren't helping," Sam said darkly to Bela.  

 

"They're exactly the same," Dean said, mostly to himself, shaking each container. "Look, it's not even that one has pulp and the other doesn't. See?" He shook one of the cartons in Bela's direction. She rolled her eyes. 

 

"Shut up about the juice, Dean." Sam grumbled. He was still hiding under his hair.  

 

"Are the three of us even going to drink this much juice?" Dean asked, half seriously. He put the containers back in the fridge side by side, and crouched to rummage around the lower shelves.  

 

"Shut up about the juice, Dean!" Sam repeated.  

 

Bela smirked in to her glass of wine.  

 

"If you're so upset about the juice, Sammy, you can always camp out with Jess," Dean suggested. 

 

"Oh he can't go live with his girlfriend!" Bela walked around the counter to tug on a strand of Sam's hair. "He won't be able to hide the ring from her in his sock drawer if they share a dresser." 

 

Dean stood up and turned around rigidly just in time to see Sam blush all the way down the back of his neck, pushing Bela away.  

 

"I'm going to bed," Sam mumbled. "I've got another full day tomorrow."  

 

He pulled the bedroom door shut just a little too hard behind him. Dean exchanged a meaningful look with Bela as they distinctly heard the lock click in to place.  

 

"Looking for a drink?" She asked him.  

 

Dean nodded. "We don't have any beer left. Could have sworn there was a six pack somewhere." He grinned. "Maybe it turned in to orange juice." 

 

She used her plastic wine glass to point to a bottle on the counter. "Four dollar cabernet, from Walmart's finest cellar." 

 

Dean made a show of pouring way too much wine in to another plastic cup, sloshing it up over the sides pretending to swirl his glass around. Bela bit down on the edge of her sleeve to keep from laughing, especially as they heard Sam sigh in frustration through his bedroom door.  

 

___ 

 

 

Sam was home when Dean tugged his bags of groceries in through the door. He practically attacked his older brother on the threshold.  

 

"Have you seen my Civil Procedure book?"  

 

"Huh?" Dean grunted, shoving half of his grocery bags in to Sam's chest to carry. 

 

"My textbook, my Civil Procedure book!" Sam said frantically. "I've looked everywhere, even Bela's room, and I can't find it. I need it for tomorrow!" 

 

Dean raised his eyebrows at his little brother. "You went in to Bela's room? Not cool. She doesn't have to let us stay here, she's being nice."  

 

Sam made a face. "I texted her first."   
 

Dean threw his hands up in surrender.  

 

"I need my book to study," Sam persisted. Dean couldn't remember seeing him this stressed out in a long time. "There weren't any civil procedure questions these last two days, so there's bound to be a ton tomorrow." 

 

"Did you maybe leave it at our place?" Dean asked, reaching out to grab his brother's shoulder to keep him from pacing.  

 

"I must have!" Sam snapped, pulling away. He shut his eyes tight and breathed in deeply before sinking in to the chair he had occupied the previous night. "Landlord doesn't want us in the building until renovations are done, do they?" 

 

"Something about the bug bombs, yeah," Dean nodded. He watched as Sam chewed on the inside of his cheek, eyes wild. "Would the library have it?" 

 

"I don't know..." Sam said slowly. "Probably." 

 

Dean twirled his keys around his finger. "Worth a shot, huh Sammy? I'll even drive you." 

 

On the condition that they hit a drive-thru for burgers, of course, which Sam should have expected. But even with the stop it was hardly twenty minutes before Sam was sitting at a table in the corner of the big city library, books stacked around himself three deep. Dean was finishing off the last of the curly fries he had snuck in past the bored-looking volunteer at the front desk. He was leaning back in the chair, staring absently at a big TV on the far wall playing some sort of volcano documentary when someone cleared their throat loudly behind him. The front legs of the chair hit the ground with a loud thunk.  

 

"You aren't supposed to bring food in past the lobby." It was a different volunteer, not the one at the front desk.  

 

"Sorry, didn't know," Dean beamed up at the woman with his most charming smile. "I'm almost done." 

 

The woman pursed her lips. Dean thought she would say something else, before several loud shrieks from the children's corner caught her attention. She hurried over after one last cold look at Dean.  

 

Dean rolled his eyes, tipping the last few fries directly in to his mouth from the bag. "Hey, Sammy!" He whispered. "Watch this!" 

 

Dean balled up the greasy paper and tossed it over his shoulder to where he knew the trash can would be right as his brother looked up, horrified.  

 

"Dean!" Sam hissed.  

 

"What, did I not make the shot?" 

 

"Depends on what you were aiming for," said a rough voice behind him.  

 

If Sam's expression was horrified, it was nothing compared to how Dean felt just then.  

 

"I am so, so sorry," Dean said, turning around in his chair.  

 

The deep-voiced stranger dropped the bag in the trash, chuckling.  He met Dean's eyes as he straightened up. "I'm sure I'll survive," He said.  

 

Dean had fully intended to say words when he opened his mouth, but he just couldn’t seem to get any out. There suddenly wasn't any air in his lungs. The stranger held his gaze for a long moment before nodding awkwardly and moving farther along down the shelves. Dean watched him walk, watched the way he reached out with long fingers to take a book from the shelf. Watched him steal sideways glances back at Dean. 

 

"Nice job, Michael Jordan," Sam teased.  

 

"Shut up, bitch," Dean snarled.  

 

"Loser," Sam replied.  

 

Which made his chest feel strange.   

 

Dean shook his head.  

 

___ 

 

 _It was later, much later, and Dean was at a strip club. This was a new one; he hadn't been here before. Or maybe he had. It was hard to tell sometimes._  

 

_He was at the bar, leaning in towards the skimpiest-dressed girl working that night. Might as well enjoy himself, right, if they'd be here a while? It could be his last night too. They weren't positive that Michael wouldn't let him be hurt._

 

 _Even with the music as loud as it was, he heard the_   _scream from one of the_   _back rooms._  

 

 _"…._ _you jerk!"_ _One of the other_ _girls_ _stormed through the curtain, clutching at her unzipped dress_ _. She headed right towards Dean at the bar, pushing_ _him as she passed. "_ _Screw you too_ _!"_  

 

 _Dean downed his drink before ducking quickly through the tulle curtain to the back rooms._  

 

 _"Cas?_ _Cas_ _, buddy, what happened?"_  

 

 _Cas_   _looked up at Dean in shock. "I- I- I don't know." He swallowed nervously, hands hanging unnaturally still at his sides. "I just told her, it wasn't her fault her father left-"_  

 

 _"No, Cas," Dean sighed, reaching out to grab his friend's shoulder. "Stop right there. You can't do that! This whole industry is_   _maintain_ _ed by absent_ _fat_ _hers_ _!"_  

 

 _Cas_   _was still looking at Dean, mouth hanging open like a fish. "I was just trying..."_  

 

 _But he was cut off by two bouncers muscling their way in._  

 

 _"Come on," Dean said urgently, sliding his hand down_   _Cas'_   _strong arm_   _to tug him out the door._  

 

 _Safely on the sidewalk_ _Dean doubled over, holding his stomach where it_ _hurt from laughing. Cas' shocked look had worn off now, and he just looked angry_ _._  

 

 _"What's so funny, Dean?"_  

 

 _Dean couldn't reply, his stomach hurt too badly to talk_ _._  

 

His stomach hurt.  

 

Dean sat bolt upright. He must have fallen asleep on Bela's couch out in the living room, because that's where he was now. He rubbed at his bleary eyes, the TV screen coming in and out of focus as he did. Half the time it was an overplayed infomercial, the other half the time it was the neon lights he remembered from the strip club. 

 

 _Remembered?_ No, dreamt. The strip club he had dreamt. He'd never been to a strip club.

 

Dean was suddenly wide awake. The man from the library had been in his dream, and Dean had known him. He had called him by his name and straightened the collar of his long tan trench coat and grabbed his hand... 

 

Dean stood up too fast in the dark, kicking the coffee table on his way in to his room. He swore under his breath and Bela's cat twitched her tail and looked at him from her favorite position on the windowsill. 


	2. We Just Normally Don't Invite You

"Everyone in the world, Dean," Bela argued, crossing her arms over her chest. 

"There is no way 'everyone in the world' goes to happy hours on weekday afternoons," said Dean sarcastically. 

"Well we do, actually, and we just normally don’t invite you because you're such an ass."

Sam laughed from the living room and Bela winked at him. 

"Come on, Dean!" Bela pleaded. "We have to celebrate that Sam's done forever with law school!"

"Only if I passed my bar exam," Sam added nervously.

Bela waved him off. "Of course you passed. And we're going to go out and celebrate and Dean is going to come with us."

"Who's 'us?'" Dean asked, loosening his tie. 

Bela listed off a few people that Dean didn't know and a few people that he knew, but didn't want to see. There was a club downtown they'd planned on going to later, Bela said, and so in the meantime it could just be the three of them (plus Sam's girlfriend Jess and his best friend Brady). 

"'Pre-gaming' is what the college kids call it," Sam told them. 

And so Dean found himself dressed in the nicest last-minute outfit Bela could find in his closet, walking downtown as Jess and Sam read happy hour signs on windows and sandwich boards. Jess or Brady found a reason to reject every single bar they passed.

Bela nudged Dean with her shoulder and rolled her eyes at Brady and Sam as the two argued over the difference between a microbrewery and a nanobrewery. Dean made a gun with his fingers and held it under his chin. 

"What about this one?" Bela said loudly. "Harvelle's."

Dean could feel his shoulders relaxing. He'd been to Harvelle's before. It was a midwest-style roadhouse, all wooden bars and scuffed pool tables. 

But when he looked up Harvelle's looked just like every other wine bar in the city, complete with patio seating. Dean rubbed his chest, squinting at the sign above the door. 

"You ok?" Sam asked him.

"Yeah..." Dean trailed off. "I'm getting deja vu." And before Jess or Brady could find something wrong with the place, Dean was pushing through the front doors. 

It wasn't very busy. Beside him, Dean could feel Bela fidget with the hem of her skirt. Almost everyone already in the bar was wearing jeans and T shirts. 

"We're way overdressed for this place..." Brady whispered. 

"Well, we're going out for real after this," Jess said, leading the group forward.

"See? Happy hour after work." Bela pointed out a group of men and women as they rounded a corner. 

And so it seemed to be: a few gray suits and loosened ties and overly bobby-pinned updos crowded around a table together. As Dean passed them he felt the strangest tensing in his hand, reaching just inside his jacket for- for what? The feeling was gone in a moment, the world returned to normal. 

Bela shot him a look, one perfect eyebrow raised. 

___

It was nice on the patio in the fading sun, and after three pretentiously named craft beers Dean couldn't feel his chest hurt anymore. He watched Sam and Jess carefully.

_Ring?_

Bela's jibe at Sam kept coming back to scratch at the back of Dean's mind. 

_He's a kid! He only just finished law school!_ Dean said to himself.

_He's finished law school. Degree:_ _done. Wife: in progress?_ Dean pointed out to himself.

_I can't be an uncle._  Dean shuddered, picturing a carseat in the back of his Impala. Annoying Other Dean didn't have a counterpoint to this. 

Ring. Huh. Dean was only 3 and a quarter beers in to the night, but his eyes seemed to be playing tricks on him already. Sam and Jess, only on the other side of the table, were hazy to look at. Jess' white dress, especially-

White dress?

He squinted. 

Jess was wearing a red dress. Red dress, with white.

_O_ _r white, with red?_

He just couldn't focus, looking at Jess. She was fuzzy, the colors of her skin and hair bleeding out and illuminated with tinges of orange as the sun went down.

Dean huffed under his breath, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. He kept his eyes closed as Sam shook his shoulder gently. Some friends of theirs from school (of Sam, Jess, and Brady from school) were meeting at the club earlier than expected, did Dean and Bela want to come early with them?

No, Dean and Bela did  _not_  want to get to there early. "No one will be there!" Bela explained, and Dean wasn't sure he'd ever been more grateful for her than this moment. 

(Except maybe once when she had pulled some strings and took him as her date to a big fancy party where they served seafood that was  _actually_  seafood. 'Imitation crab' had no one fooled.) 

Their table for five on the patio was too much now that they'd lost over half their party. So they squeezed their way over to the bar inside and managed to pull together two bar stools off in the corner. 

The corner of the bar was the best place to be, Bela said. You're always just barely in the bartender's line of sight, Bela said. That's the best place to send flirty looks and winks, Bela said. 

Bela said a lot of things. 

Bela also got a lot of free drinks, so she must have had a point. 

Dean said that the corner was the best because nobody ever crowded up against you or bumped into you or reached over you. 

Dean didn't get as many free drinks as Bela. But he still also had a point. 

The happy hour suits were still there, but other than that the crowd in the bar had definitely changed. More dresses and button ups. Dean and Bela looked the best, though, they agreed to each other. 

They were supposed to go to one of the fancy newer clubs downtown. But around an hour after Sam and Jess and Brady had left, Dean was comfortably buzzed (his vision strangely clear now that Jess was gone) and Bela was trying very hard to aim straight at the dartboard on the wall. 

The bartender had offered her a free drink if she could hit a bullseye before his shift was over "...in only about half an hour," he repeated several times hopefully. Dean was pretty sure he was going to give her a free drink anyways.

But it was still fun to watch her try to hit the bullseye, Dean and Bela and the bartender laughing harder the farther from the center she got. A couple people now were standing by, watching. 

"I couldn't hit the side of a barn," Bela sighed dramatically, leaning back against the bar to accept some small, fruit filled cocktail from the bartender (Dean had been right). 

"Watch and learn from the king, peasants." Dean took the darts from Bela in one hand and with his beer in the other, made a bullseye in just one try. 

Bela cheered and Dean bowed to his little crowd.

Bow to the right, 

Bow to the center, 

Bow to the left-

"So your aim is actually  _not_  bad. Good thing I was out of the way this time."

The man from the library. Dean could feel himself blushing, but he just stared blankly. 

The man from his dream. 

"Do I, um," Dean tried to choke out, his voice hoarse suddenly.  _Do I know you?_  Because now that the other man was close, Dean was sure that he had known him before this. How else could he have gotten the details? The exact shade of his eyes, the pattern of stubble on his jaw. 

Bela leaned forward, pushing up against Dean's shoulder. "Who's this?"

"This is, um..."  _What did I call you in my dream?_  The man hadn't introduced himself in the library. 

"Castiel." The man smiled brightly at Bela, reaching out to shake her hand. 

"And you know each other?" Bela was watching Dean, not this new man. 

Dean didn't know how to answer. 

"...Nope! Met just now." Castiel's smile faltered only for a moment.  

Bela was still watching him. Dean coughed, using the movement to dig his elbow against hers and push.  _Turn around, let me talk to this guy._

She dug in only briefly before relenting, attention back on the bartender.  _Don't you dare ditch me tonight._

"Castiel," Dean said, the name sticking hard in his throat.

The bright blue eyes flashed. "Or Cas."

Cas.That was the name Dean remembered. 

Well, dreamt. 

Remembered from his dream.  

 

Whatever.

 

Was it hot in here?

"Dean." He reached out to shake the Castiel's hand. 

Castiel turned to put his briefcase on the bar before grasping Dean's hand with both of his. He must have been with the happy hour work crowd. "Nice to meet you, Dean."

"Sorry about the other day," Dean said sincerely. He could distinctly feel Bela perk up beside him when he said 'the other day.' Although, actually, now that he took the moment to glance sideways at her she was talking into her cell phone. 

"...must not be paying enough attention to his phone," She said ultra casually, eyes laser focused on Dean. Whoops. That meant it was probably Sam. "Yeah, I'll go grab him. We'll leave now." And then, to Dean: "Sam's at the club already, wants to know when we're meeting him."

"Oh, yeah." Dean said blankly. "Umm, we'll leave now."

Bela smirked at him, looking Castiel up and down for way too long before turning to meet the bartender at the end of the bar where the register was, whipping out her credit card. 

"She's not my girlfriend!" Dean blurted out.  _Smooth,_ said Annoying Other Dean.  

"Are you going to meet your girlfriend?" Castiel asked, fidgeting with the clasp of his briefcase. Was he nervous?

"No. I'm not meeting anyone later tonight." Castiel frowned, eyes narrowed. "Well, we're going to meet my brother. So yeah, I guess, I'm meeting him. But no one, like-"

"That you're interested in?" Castiel supplied, fingers still on his briefcase. 

"Dean?" Bela called from over at the front of the bar. "Are you coming?"

"Yeah!" Dean called to her, holding up his practically empty glass. "Let me finish this drink first!"

Castiel was looking at him funny, head tilted. Which did very strange things to Dean's heart rate. 

"I should go," Dean said lamely, looking at a spot somewhere off to the left of Castiel's head. "I, umm.."

_I_ _'ll see you around?_

He was about to turn away when Castiel was pulled out of his trance. 

"Here-" He fished a crinkled business card and a chewed-up pen from his briefcase, scratching out an extension on the back. "-to save you from the phone tree. In case you... wanted to call."

_Castiel_ _X-4140_

"So, uhh...accountant?" asked Dean, squinting at the card. 

Castiel laughed. "Nope, more boring."

"Hmm. Selling...ad space for AM radio?"

"Not that boring." Castiel smiled crookedly. 

"Deeeeean!" Bella sang from the door. Now half the people in the building were craning their necks to look at her. 

"Your last name isn't on here," Dean waved the card. 

"Well, there aren't a lot of Castiels in the building..." The other man teased. "You'll get through to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how do you decide what castiels name should be and what he does for a living? you dont. just lampshade it.


	3. "How Do You Know It Wasn't Sam, Though?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in this fic were in an alternate universe (obviously) but now that dean has met cas the canonverse is starting to break through just a bit. so if youve got any particular favorite scene between dean and another character, let me know and i can probably write it in :)

The club closed at 2 am, which snuck up on their group very fast. 

 

The morning snuck up even faster, with some loud noise startling Dean awake.  

 

He could hear Bela cursing from the kitchen.  

 

Dean raised himself up on his forearms. He'd been sleeping on his stomach, and his phone was stuck to his bare chest, tacky from sweat. It was 9:07. 

 

_U_ _gh._ What was he even doing awake at this ungodly hour of the morning? He flipped over on to his back, bringing his hand to his head when the movement spiked a headache. Hangover. He and his sheets were sweaty and gross, and his mouth was so dry it felt cracked.  

 

The coffee pot beeped from the kitchen. Dean had to make a very important choice: stay still to keep his head from hurting or brave the walk in to the kitchen to have a drink of water. He gave in to his thirst in the end, carefully tugging on a shirt and keeping his hand pressed against his temple.  

 

"Coffee? Tylenol?" Bela asked him sympathetically.  

 

"45 grams of lead." Dean groaned. One of the barstools was pushed out almost in to the living room. Bela must have kicked it or something, which is probably what woke Dean up in the first place.  

 

"What?" 

 

"You know," Dean insisted, pulling the stool back into place. "45 grams of lead." 

 

"No, I really don't know." She was facing the cabinets with her back to Dean. "Creamer and sugar? We have hazelnut." 

 

Dean rolled his eyes. " _Death._  Like, 'shoot me.'" 

 

Bela had turned around now, handing Dean a cup of coffee with a blank look on her face.  

 

"You  _know_. Like a .45 bullet. So getting '45 grams of lead' means getting shot. It's an expression." He stirred a spoon of sugar and a very generous amount of creamer in to his coffee.  

 

"I don't think .45's are called .45's because they weigh 45 grams. That seems pretty heavy," Bela argued.  

 

Dean rolled his eyes again, which Bela didn't see because she was staring down at her phone. He wanted to say something snarky but settled with a big gulp of coffee first. He paused, listening, but couldn't hear movement from Sam's room. Whether that meant Sam wasn't awake or wasn't at the apartment, he didn't know.  

 

" _9_ grams of lead." Bela said suddenly, triumphant. She held her phone out to Dean but the screen was too far for him to see the text on the screen. "The expression is  _9_ grams of lead. .45 bullets are called that because of the diameter." 

 

Dean took another slow drink of his coffee. "How am I supposed to know that?" 

 

"You're the one saying the expression in the first place." But she shrugged, letting him get back to his coffee in what he thought was a self-preserving silence. "You don't work today?" 

 

 Dean shook his head as he filled up his second cup.  

 

"Me neither," Bela said distractedly. She'd switched her coffee out for a glass of ice water. Smart idea. "I'm starting to think I need to accept more clients after all. Have you heard from Sam yet this morning? What's the protocol for him staying out all night? Does he usually let you know?" 

 

"Oh, he's not here?" Dean should have known. If Sam was here, he'd be awake already. Early riser.  

 

Bela narrowed her eyes at him. "Do you remember getting home last night?" 

 

Dean frowned, trying to think through his headache. "No." 

 

Bela smiled at him fondly. Or maybe teasingly. Thinking through the headache wasn't so easy. "You went right to sleep, basically. You didn't even stay up to watch Survivor with me." 

 

Dean grinned, feeling almost bad. He'd forgotten that yesterday was wednesday, which meant that last night was Survivor night. "I don't know if I feel bad for not staying up with you, or if you should feel bad for watching without me." 

 

Bela pouted just a little. "I had to watch it if I didn't want it spoiled. Anyways, have you heard from Sam? He hasn't texted me or called." 

 

Before Dean could jump to his brother's defense and remind Bela that not only was Sam an  _adult,_  he was a  _smart adult,_  and that  _adults_  could stay over at their girlfriend's apartments if they _wanted to_ , his phone started ringing from his bedroom. 

 

Dean slid off his chair slowly, wishing the Tylenol he'd taken could have kicked in faster.  By the time he'd stumbled in to his room to get his phone, he'd missed the call. 

 

It was an unknown number anyways.  

 

"Not Sam," He told Bela as he settled back into his seat in the kitchen. "Unknown number. Can you get me ice water, since you're up?" 

 

"How do you know it wasn't Sam, though?" 

 

"Unknown number," Dean repeated slowly. The cold water in the glass Bela had set down for him hurt his head at first, but he knew he'd be thankful later.  

 

"If his phone was dead or if he was lost somewhere he'd call from an unknown number," Bela pointed out.  

 

"What? He's not." 

 

"But how do you  _know?"_  

 

_"_ I know because... because I do." Dean finished lamely. Still, though, he texted his little brother.  

 

Dean: where are you (Sent 9:32) 

 

Sam: breakfast with jess. sorry. be home this afternoon (Received 9:33) 

 

"Texted me right back," Dean assured Bela. "And he's with Jess. Like I said he would be." 

 

Bela threw up her hands as she walked away. "Well if I didn't care about you idiots, no one would." 

 

Dean couldn't argue. He was rinsing out his coffee cup when his phone beeped.  

 

Text Message: (unknown number): this wouldnt happen to be dean would it? (Received 9:36) 

 

Dean frowned. Bela was in her own room now with door shut. The number that was texting him was the same number he'd gotten a call from. Had he given out his phone number last night? He couldn't remember anything past about midnight... 

 

But surely Bela would have teased him if he'd been all over someone. 

 

Dean: yes. whos this? (Sent 9:37) 

 

Unknown number: castiel (Received 9:41) 

 

Unknown number: from harvelles. and from your target practice ; ) (Received 9:42) 

 

Dean could literally feel his blood pressure drop. Castiel had his phone number. And was texting him. On a thursday morning. How did Castiel get his number? Leaving his empty coffee cup in the sink even though he knew how much Bela hated that, he rushed over in to his room. There's no way he would have tried to, like, call Castiel last night when he was drunk, right? 

 

But the little business card the other man had given to him was out on his bedside table, not in his wallet where he knew he had carefully put it after leaving Harvelle's behind Bela.  Dean groaned and sunk down to the floor.  

 

_from_ _harvelles_ _. a_ _nd_ _from your target_ _practice ;_   _)_  

 

A winky face. Seriously.  

 

Dean wasn't sure what was more embarrassing: the idea that he must have left what was surely a horrendous voicemail on a stranger's work phone in the middle of the night or the winky face in the text. 

 

"Dean!" Bela yelled, banging open his door. If she was particularly surprised to find him kneeling in front of the nightstand clutching his phone, she didn't show it. "I'm going to get laundry started, do you want me to wash your sheets? I bet y- oh my god," She dropped her laundry basket and stepped further in to the room to peer down at him. Dean shoved his phone under the bed as if Bela would be able to sense the second-hand embarrassment somehow. "You look  _so_ pale. Are you going to throw up?"  

 

"Uhh-" Dean considered it. "I- I might." 

 

"Oh my god, you totally are." Bela retreated safely back to the doorway. "Not on my carpet!" 

 

Dean nodded, suddenly dizzy. He took a deep breath before darting in to the small bathroom. Hunching over the sink to splash cold water on his face brought almost immediate relief.  

 

"I'm washing your sheets. And I'm stealing quarters from your change jar!" Bela warned him through the door. 

 

He waited until he heard the sound of the front door closing before daring to leave the bathroom to get his phone.  

 

Dean: hi castiel. please delete my number and completely erase me from your memories, because im literally so embarrassed about what i might have said last night that i almost just puked  

 

Yeah, no. Definitely not sending that.  

 

Dean: hi angel ive been dreaming about you 

 

Also not going to go with that. And it was only one dream. 

 

Dean: im too hungover to deal with this right now. brb, drowning myself in the shower 

 

Frustrated, Dean let his phone drop to the bathroom counter. A shower was a good idea. The Tylenol had kicked in, finally, and he scrubbed his hair hard with Sam's apple scented shampoo that he usually pretended to be too good for. He didn't work tonight, but he still took the time to shave after getting out of the shower.  

 

Stalling. But whatever.  

 

Dean: very first thing, i want to apologize for whatever i said or did if i called you last night (Sent 10:31) 

 

Yes, it had really taken him forty-nine minutes to decide what to say. He could almost hear what Bela would say to Dean about that- or what she would have just said to Castiel in the first place.  

 

Castiel: and the second thing? (Received 10:36) 

 

Dean: good morning : ) (Sent 10:37) 

 

Castiel: good morning : ) (Received 10:39) 

 

Dean: seriously though im so sorry (Sent 10:41) 

 

Castiel: my coworkers and i really did enjoy the message this morning ; ) to be quite honest with you, it wasnt so bad. mostly just background noise.  

 

Dean snorted, leaning against the bathroom counter to think. #1,  _that damn winky face again._  Seriously, they were grown men. And #2, who even actually spelled out 'to be quite honest' on a freakin' text message?  

 

Castiel, apparently.  

 

Dean: good. glad i can still show my pretty face around town (Sent 10:44) 

 

Castiel: youre safe. where do you like to show your pretty face, by the way? besides harvelles and the library (Received 10:51) 

 

And there it was. Was Castiel was flirting with him? 

 

Dean: anywhere that youre gonna be ; ) 

 

If only he wasn't a coward, Dean probably would have sent that. He could hear that Bela was back now, banging through the front door. "Do you still have my change jar?" He called out. 

 

Dean heard her drop the plastic laundry baskets with a thud and rattle his spaghetti sauce jar filled with coins around loudly. He grinned and stood in the doorway of his room, putting his phone in his pocket. "You're gonna give it back!" 

 

_"You're_ _gonna_ _give it back." Dean was_  t _oo angry to be anything but calm._   _It came down to Sam, after all. He couldn't leave without the foot._  

 

_Dean_ _had expected the gun she was pointing at his face._  

 

Dean tripped over his own feet stumbling backwards. He hit the doorframe of his room hard, sliding halfway down to the floor in a crouch. 

 

_"Sweetie," She sneered. "_ _No_ _I'm not."_  

 

_"Yeah, we'll see. Bela, right?" As if he didn't know._  

 

_"That's right, Dean."_  

 

"Dean?" Bela's fingers were wrapped too tightly around his arm, nails digging into his skin.  

 

He gasped. She hurt to look at; his vision seemed to double as he tried to focus on her. Half the time she looked concerned, maybe horrified. A second later the world would turn and she was smirking at him, sizing him up,  _holding a gun_ _on_ _him._  

 

Short hair and an oversized t-shirt with yoga pants. 

 

_Long hair_ _. And the gun. Don’t forget that part._  

 

"Dean?" Bela asked again.  

 

"Get off me!" He yelped. They both fell backwards as Dean pushed her away hard, collapsing on to the carpet. He wished he'd put a shirt on after his shower as goosebumps raced up his arms and back. He shut his eyes hard and ground the heels of his palms against his eyelids, seeing stars and flashes of red and a  _gun being pointed at his face._  By his  _friend,_ who was letting him stay at her  _apartment_ and had done his  _laundry._  

 

Dean still felt like the room was spinning, and it had nothing to do with his hangover. He tensed as he heard something crack, like a bullet. He could almost feel it ricocheting off the walls.  _Maybe it'll hit that damn_ _Ouija_ _board she's got..._  

 

Ouija board?  

 

It turns out it was ice, scooped quickly into the glass that Bela was holding out to him with shaking hands. He couldn't look her in the face as he let her pass the cup to him, concentrating instead on keeping his heart rate below 180. He sat up slowly, wincing at the rug burns he could already feel on his arms and back from the fall. He felt guilty to realize Bela must have some too. He had pushed her pretty hard. 

 

She sat a few feet back from him, knees drawn up to her chest. She was watching him closely, jaw clenched, but at least she didn't  _flinch_  or anything when he sat up all the way, reaching out to her.  

 

He wasn't quite sure if she was helping him up or if he was helping her, but it felt good to stand together anyways. She was solid and real and he grabbed on to both of her hands tightly. _She was_ _d_ _efinitely not holding a gun, then._ But he had to be sure.   

 

She gave him a funny look when he wouldn't let go of her hands, even after they'd both stood up. Dean dropped his arms immediately, suddenly embarrassed, clearing his throat as he stooped to pick up the glass of water from the floor. "...Dean?" 

 

"Ye-" He had to clear his throat again. "Yeah?" 

 

She hesitated before breaking her careful calm. "Umm, what the  _hell?"_  

 

'What the hell' didn't seem to come close to Dean's level of confusion. His chest hurt like it had yesterday, at Harvelle's. His eyes were playing tricks on him just like at Harvelle's, too, with Jess and with the group of angels and the damn place itsel- 

 

_Wait. What?_  

 

"I, uhh... Just really hungover," He finished lamely. The sun was coming in bright through the windows and the stupid yappy dog that the neighbors weren't supposed to have was barking. Everything was right with the world, and he felt angry at himself now for freaking out.  

 

Bela just stared at him with her arms crossed. "That's not hungover, Dean. That looked like...like the beginning of a panic attack, or something. Your pupils even dilated, you were clearly experiencing some sort of-" 

 

_"_ Don't go all psych major on me," Dean muttered. 

 

Bela stood up tall. "I'm not a 'psych major' anymore, Dean, I'm a psychologist. I have a master's degree in emotionally stunted assholes like you." 

 

His anger melted quickly, leaving him just ashamed. ""I don't know. Just...uh..."  _I just had a hallucination of you pointing a gun at me? Shooting at me?_  

 

_B_ _ut that wasn't really all. The gun wasn't the worst part. T_ _he worst part was the knot in his stomach, the voice in the back of his head. "S_ _am_ _is going to die if you can't get her to cooperate. Sam is going to die if it turns out that you haven't read her as well as you thought. Sam is going to die and the deal_ _will_ _have been for nothing._ _"_   

 

His blood felt like ice but he forced himself to take a deep breath anyways, staring intently into Bela's eyes. "...Stressed. And at work, you know..." 

 

Bela softened just a little. "Well, you don't work tonight or the rest of the weekend. You need to relax." 

 

Dean nodded. His headache was worse than when he woke up.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i did actually decide to give bela "clients" and a profession instead of being vague about it.  
> sorry guys, but lampshading is just my favorite trope. the spn writers do it all the time too so i think im allowed


	4. Forget About Both Of Our Brothers

"You'll come have lunch, right?" Sam chattered excitedly in his hear.  

 

"Yeah. Yeah man, of course." Dean's phone was sweaty in his hand. "Bela's... Bela's not home..." He didn't want to third wheel, didn't want to go out for lunch, didn't want to spend any time with Jess at all actually. Didn't she work fridays, anyways? It was two in the afternoon.  

 

"She's with a client," Sam told him. "She responded to our text, though, and she's gonna meet us." 

 

Bela to Dean, Sam, Jessica Moore: CONGRATULATIONS YOU GUYS!!! I LOVE YOU!!! ILL BE THERE SOON!!! (Sent 1:50) 

 

Us. And he didn't mean him and Dean.  "I'll head out right now," Dean sighed. "First I just have to..." He couldn't invent a single thing that needed doing, and he knew Sam wasn't paying attention anyways. He let Sam hang up before rubbing his sweaty hands on his jeans and sinking down on to the couch. A text from Bela had come in during the call. 

 

Bela: we made a bet right? $50? $100? ; ) (Received 1:51) 

 

Dean: arent you with someone rn (Sent 1:54) 

 

Bela: stepped out for a moment. (Received 1:55) 

 

Bela: wow, right??? (Received 1:56) 

 

Jessica Moore to Bela, Sam, Dean: : D : D : D : D : D 

 

Dean frowned. How much would Sam hate him for removing himself from this group message? More than was worth, most likely.  

 

At least Sam had picked a pretty decent bar to meet at. Dean knew it was absolutely a peace offering and he was determined to appreciate it. Would this be on Sam's tab, or would it be expected for him to pay? Either way, Dean ordered one of the expensive beers with the highest alcohol content on the menu.  

 

He hugged Sam tight, clapping his shoulder hard. His little brother could hardly hold himself still, bouncing on his toes. Hugging his brother with one hand, he never let go of Jess with the other.  

 

Jess. Dean hugged her next, gently, caught slightly off guard when she flung her arms around his neck so enthusiastically. He was never under the impression that she liked him too much, but her smile was sincere.  

 

Dean hated himself as he glared at the ring on her finger. He was being so selfish. Sam was happy, and if Sam was happy he was supposed to be happy for him. Bela arrived not long after he had, thank God, and she made a big enough fuss cooing over the ring for the both of them. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see Sam looking at him nervously.  

 

"I'm really-" 

 

"This isn't-" 

 

Sam laughed. "You uhh, you go ahead. Your'e...?" 

 

"Really happy for you, brother." And he was, honestly. It would just be a big adjustment.  

 

"It'll be a little bit different, huh?" Sam said, having probably seriously read Dean's mind.   

 

"Different in a good way. You're getting married!" Dean tapped his beer glass against Sam's. Jess turned to beam at him.  

 

"You'll be best man, right Dean?" She asked, breathless.  

 

___ 

 

Bela pushed her way over to Dean, where he'd just been chatting with Ellen.  

 

"You look like someone just kicked your dog," she said. "And you don't even like dogs." 

 

Dean grimaced. "Am not. I was just catching up with Ellen. Jo will be back from college soon." 

 

"Doesn't explain why you look so unhappy." Damnit. Dean had been hoping to distract Bela with the news about Jo. "And I'm not the only one who's noticed." 

 

"I'm happy for Sam," Dean said. "And for Jess." 

 

"It'll be different," Ellen offered, hand on his shoulder.  

 

Dean was grateful. "It's always been me and Sam, just us two against the world. With mom and dad..." He trailed off, looking down in to his glass. "And- and I'll need a new roommate. Or to move." 

 

"You'll figure it out," Ellen scolded him as she got up out of her seat, adding over her shoulder "Just don't you dare let Sam catch you talking like that. Just because he's got Jess now, doesn't mean you aren't his only family."  

 

"I do need to be better about this," Dean sighed, guilty. "He wouldn't do it to me." 

 

"Only one way to find out, go get married yourself," Bela winked at him. "How long do you think we have to stay?" she looked around carefully before asking under her breath. Some friends had met them at the bar now, and The Happy Couple was more than occupied.  

 

"Why?" Dean smirked. "Somewhere to be? Hot date on this friday night?" 

 

Bela pointedly ignored that, sipping her beer delicately. "You don't have anything going on either." 

 

Dean scratched the back of his neck.  

 

"You do!" Bela squealed. "God, tell me everything. It's that guy from the bar wednesday, right?" 

 

"How did you even know that?" Dean asked her.  

 

"I saw the way you looked at him as we were leaving." She said, winking at him. "So, it is?" 

 

Dean felt himself blushing. "We've been texting today. Just texting!" He added before Bela could cut him off.  

 

She pouted a little. "He's cute." 

 

Dean hummed in agreement. He hesitated before going on, "He seems so familiar to me. Something about him..." 

 

"Oooh that's so romantic!" Bela sighed, bumping his shoulder. "You must be soulmates." 

 

Dean snorted. "You believe in soul mates?" 

 

"Some people are just meant to be. Look at Sam and Jess, don't you think they'd always end up together no matter what? Nothing could keep them apart." 

 

Dean got a tight feeling in his chest just then, looking over at his brother.  

 

___ 

 

Sam had assured Bela that he was going to be gone for the night before leaving the bar with Jess. Bela had rustled up a friend from somewhere to go see a movie with, leaving Dean alone in the apartment. Normally, having the place to himself to watch Dr. Sexy reruns all night would have been a dream come true.  

 

Normally.  

 

Dean bit his lip. Castiel had last texted him about 2 hours before, right as Dean was leaving the bar. He hadn’t said that he had any plans that night, but he hadn't said that he  _didn't_ have any plans. 

 

_He likes you, man, he's been flirting with you all day. What's the worst he can do, say no?_ _You'll never have to run in to him, it's not like it would be_ _awkward_ _if he never speaks to you again._   

 

And so Dean went for it. 

 

Dean: want to meet for drinks? (Sent 8:46) 

 

Castiel: i would love nothing more. theres a place in town called montereys, happy hour starts at 9? (Received 8: 47) 

 

Dean smiled to himself. "He texted me back right away," he told Bela's cat. "Does that mean he's interested?" He didn’t know what to make of her purring, so he just scratched her ears for a moment. 

 

Dean: : ) (Sent 8:48)  

 

Dean hadn't ever been to this place, if only because it was on the other side of town. The bars he usually went to were ones that he could walk home from if he got too drunk. It was comforting, in a sad way. If things went badly with Castiel, he really probably wouldn't ever see him again if this was the part of town he kept to. He took a deep breath before walking in.  

 

There was a hostess. Dean froze, not prepared for that. She was smiling at him in an expectant sort of way.  

 

"...Hello sir!" She beamed. "One?" 

 

"N-no," Dean stammered. Pull it together man. Don't lose your cool in front of a teenager. "I'm, uhh, meeting someone." 

 

The hostess nodded. "Is she here already? Dark hair, in the blue dress? Or blonde?" She asked, pointing out to two tables where women sat alone like she expected Dean to be meeting one of them.  

 

"No, not one of them," Dean said. "Hold on, I'll-" and as he was turning on his heel, pulling out his phone to text Castiel  _where are you, man, the hostess is looking at me like I'm an idiot_ , Castiel himself was there in the doorway.  

 

"Hello, Dean." 

 

The warmth and relief that spread through Dean's entire body when other man smiled at him crookedly was almost enough to make his knees weak. 

 

"Just going to the bar, or..."  

 

Dean startled, having forgotten that the hostess was there.  

 

"Just the bar," Castiel told her. "Come on." 

 

And Dean definitely was not just a little bit disappointed that Castiel didn't request the little table for two in the corner. Not disappointed at all. But sitting side by side at the bar drinking a beer while Castiel had asked for a whiskey, rocks, felt ok too.  

 

"So," Castiel started. "Did you work today? What do you do?" 

 

Dean shook his head. "No, I'm usually off fridays. I'm a guard at the jail." 

 

Castiel was visibly impressed. "It's not unnerving to be around criminals all day?" 

 

Dean blushed. "Well, I'm actually a guard for the juvenile side. Kids aren't so scary. Most of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." Castiel nodded, but Dean didn't know what he was nodding at. "It's pretty nice though. We work 12 hours shifts, so I only work three nights a week." 

 

"Twelve hours? How can you stand it? After seven I'm ready to jump out the window," Castiel groaned.  

 

Dean laughed. Talking to Castiel was easy. He lived on this side of town, in a little house with a yard that he was apparently constantly at war with ("The sprinkler system is a nightmare!" Castiel leaned dramatically against the bartop. "My plants are always dying from too much water or not enough."). He'd grown up in the midwest, like Dean had. He didn't watch football often but was a big hockey fan. He played soccer on the weekends with his friends and they always made him the goalie even though he wasn't very good ("Just better than any of them.").  

 

So Dean told him about how much he loved to cook, and how he loved his apartment downtown where he could kinda see the ocean on a clear day. Dean told him how the building was undergoing some pretty crazy renovations, so him and Sam were crashing at their friends Bela's for a few weeks ("The one from the bar?" Castiel asked ultra-casually.).  

 

Dean told him about how Sam had just gotten engaged today. 

 

"And you're out at a bar with me, not with your brother?" Castiel asked slyly.  

 

"He was pretty eager to get out and spend the night with his girlf- fiancee," Dean grumbled.  

 

Castiel finished off his drink and signaled for another one (Dean was on his third beer). "Do you like her?" 

 

"I do, of course I do," Dean said. "She's way out of my brother's league. I'm just gonna- Sam and I are kinda all each other has. Not exactly the perfect American family."  

 

And wow, why did he just say that to a complete stranger? 

 

But Castiel didn't look at him with pity. "At least he's getting married," he chuckled. "At least you don't have a brother who's just so obnoxious that no one will marry him." 

 

Dean grinned. "So you have brothers, then?" 

 

"One. And I'll be stuck with him forever." 

 

Dean was just about to say something embarrassing like "being stuck with you forever sounds pretty good" or "why don't you move in with me and take my brother's place, then" or even "let's just make out until we forget about both of our brothers" when someone snuck up behind them quite literally and grabbed Castiel's shoulders. 

 

Castiel tightened up, spinning around in his chair. "Ishim? Mirabel?"  

 

"You bet it, brother," The man who had grabbed Castiel said. He was tall and handsome in a scruffy-James-Bond kind of way, and Dean hated him immediately.  

 

"Good to see you're out of your garage with that monster car of yours, Cas," the woman teased gently. "It takes a lot to get Ishim to come out with me in public, too." And she grabbed the hand of the other man, who wrapped one arm around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.  

 

Ok, so Dean didn't hate them.  

 

"I need more time in the garage," Castiel rolled his eyes. "Wouldn't start earlier. Which is why I was a bit late," he added to Dean.  

 

Ishim and Mirabel seemed to notice Dean sitting there, just then. Mirabel squinted at him. "Are we interrupting... something?" 

 

And now Dean hated them again. Castiel looked carefully over at him. So he lifted his beer and said "Friends. We're, uh, celebrating my brother's engagement!" 

 

"Where is your brother?" Ishim asked, looking around. It was late, and there weren't that many people left in the bar. 

 

"He's off celebrating his engagement with his new fiancée." Dean blushed just a bit. Did he really just make a sex joke about his little brother? Really? 

 

But the couple laughed. "That phase will wear off soon enough," Ishim said. Mirabel smacked him on the arm, and they laughed again. "We'll let you two get back to celebrating, then. See you around, Cas." 

 

Dean focused very hard on his beer while Castiel waved goodbye to the couple. He waited until they were actually out the door before turning back to Castiel. "Those were friends of yours?" 

 

Castiel had twisted in his chair so that his body was facing Dean, leaning with one arm draped across the back. "Yeah, sorry about that. You know how  _friends_  can be." He grimaced slightly as he emphasized the word.  

 

Dean kicked himself, mentally. He had to fix this. "Sorry, about... um, that. I just didn't... I don't..." 

 

Castiel was looking at him like he expected some sort of intelligent answer. Well, joke's on him. Dean sure as hell wasn't capable of that right at this minute. He let Dean stammer for a moment before smiling softly. "Not very good at meeting new people, are you?" 

 

"No!" Dean scoffed. "Or, uhh, yes. I don't know. They caught me off guard." 

 

Castiel laughed, and it was worth how embarrassed he was. He buried his face in his shoulder. "Come on, man, be nice to me." 

 

Castiel was still laughing. "I need another drink." 

 

"Me too," Dean said. He sat up straighter, looking around the emptying restaurant. Their previous bar tender had left earlier, signing them off to someone new, but Dean couldn't remember who it was. "Who's our new waiter? Hippie or the other one?" 

 

"'Hippie or the other one'?" Castiel repeated. "Which one is even the hippie? They both look pretty normal." 

 

"No, no. One of them is wearing a necklace." 

 

"That doesn't make someone a hippie," Castiel said.  

 

"Yes it does," Dean insisted.  "If a man is wearing a necklace, he's automatically a hippie." 

 

"Well, I guess you'd know, hmm?" Castiel hummed. He caught Dean's eye and smirked. "I like hippies."  

 

And then Castiel reached out towards Dean, like he was going to grab his arm or touch his collar or something before freezing. He squinted hard at Dean's chest before meeting his eyes, his expression half confused and half- embarrassed? Before Dean could really analyze it Castiel shook his head like he was trying to get water out of his ears and set his hand on Dean's shoulder awkwardly.  

 

"So, you're, umm, good to stay for another drink?" Castiel coughed before withdrawing his hand quickly. He rubbed his chest like it was hurting him.  

 

Dean nodded. "I've got all night. I could close this place down." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im going to stay with deans pov for the entire story, but he isnt the only one getting weird flashbacks :o


End file.
